


Kittie went feral

by AveTheNoulGuy



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Redemption, Torture, whip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AveTheNoulGuy/pseuds/AveTheNoulGuy
Summary: After her favoutire pupil gets recaptured by the Horde, Shadow Weaver decides to put a certain kittie in charge of her . . .
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Kittie went feral

"Well well, would you look at that . . . what's the cat dragged in, as they say . . ."

"Catra please, you don't have to-"

Adora's complain was ended by a yelp from the sharp tug on her collar, bringing her down on her knees before Shadow Weaver. Politely, Catra assumed a waiting position, herself clearly aware she was shaking with . . . what? Anger? Excitement?

With a cold hand, Shadow Weaver raised Adora's chin and took a look at her growling face.

"Let me go, you monster-"

And she was slapped, with enough force to bring her back to the ground.

"Catra!"

"Yes, Shadow Weaver?"

"Remind her of her manners. I have no reason to help her anymore. She will answer to Hordac for her stupidity by tomorrow, or I be damned."

On her way out, she took Catra by the shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her fluffy ear. "Make sure she can still see and talk tomorrow. And don't break any bones. Rest is up to you."

With that, she was gone, and the metal doors hissed close behind her cloak. Catra, still trembling, refused to look at her prisoner.

"Catra-"

"Don't talk to me."

All those times they had played together, made silly promises that they'd stay together forever, all those times they had obeyed Shadow Weaver's word without questioning it. What was left of that? A disgrace to the Horde, and another one in the making.

"We can run away, together . . . "

Out of instinct, Catra scratched at her face, and left three deep scars before she caught herself. What had she done! Harmed Adora! Then again, that's what she was here for . . . with a deep breath, she brought her composture back together.

"I am a Force Captain, traitor, and I demand you treat me as such." Yeah. That sounded appropriate. She could pull that through.

Adora looked her over, two thick blood streams running down her face. She winced at the pain, but didn't complain. They were no strangers to pain. Shadow Weaver knew pain, and so did Hordac. They knew pain, too.

"Force Captain . . ." Her eyes played around the little green badge at Catra's chest. "Lenny must have been confused."

Lenny. Something cramped together in Catra. All those memories . . . she grabbed Adora by the collar and pulled her up, high enough to choke her, but not enough to let her stand.

"Those tricks won't work on me, traitor. I know all the ways you can try to mess with me, and trust me, I know many more. You won't persuade me."

"So what are you gonna do, Catra? Gag me?"

After a moment of hesitation, she allowed herself another outburst, this time more carefully, only scratching Adora's face and bringing her to the ground again. Slightly amused, she went over to the wall where their mother kept her toys, and produced a smallish toy on a leather strap.

"Maybe."

Wide-eyed, Adora scrambled away from her, pressing herself against the wall, yet with her hands restrained behind her back, couldn't stop Catra from grabbing her, pulling the device over her mouth and locking it at her neck. Yet despite pulling back, she didn't bite, nor kick. She had been more powerful than Catra, no? Was she afraid of her now? Or was she still afraid of injuring her?

Still pressing her against the wall, Catra sat herself on Adora's legs, pressing their bodies together. She missed her smell, her blonde hair tickling her face, her muscles moving under her. But this time, it was in fear . . .

"Remember, Adora, how we used to sleep like this in our bunk beds? How obedient you were back then, how you listened to me, to Shadow Weaver . . . you trained by my side, remember?"

Adora answered with an angry twitch. Catra curled her muscular arms behind her head, bringing her close, almost pressing their faces together.

"How is it now, adorable?" she whispered. "Are you still gonna talk back to me, plot of leaving me again? Are you still going to remind me of all the times I had trusted you, believing you cared for me?" She pulled back from Adora's messy, bloodied face to hide a tear. She must be strong.

With a moan, Adora pressed herself against her legs, complaining. Did she, too, believe she cared for Catra?

"Then why did you leave the Horde, you idiot? Why did you leave me?" In another burst, she pushed the blonde away, grabbed for the support of the wall. "How could you abandon me like that?! Break all your important promises and leave me here to rot!"

Struggling to her feet, Adora got up, coming closer, and was pushed away again. Roaming through the racks on the wall, Catra took a whip at random and pointed it at her with a shaky hand, no longer bothering to hold back tears.

"You, you bitch . . . I . . ."

Loosing balance again, she let herself fall on the confused prisoner, causing them both to fall to the floor, where she clung to her back, making deep cuts, pressing her chest against her mess of a face. "I missed you . . ."

Adora, having taken both the force of the impact and Catra falling on herself, groaned, arching her back from the pain of the cuts. Rolling to the side, she curled herself around her previous companion, wrapping her legs around her in place of a hug, caressing her gently with one despite the pain.

They stayed like this for a while, Catra sobbing for a while in her crush's embrace, not tending to her wounds, eventually starting to purr. It felt like the old days, for a moment, comforting her after they had had a beating from Shadow Weaver. She missed her, Adora realised. Catra had missed her more than anything.

Eventually, Catra rubbed her face against her prisoner's chest, drying off what remained of her tears. She raised her to her knees, started caressing her, her wounds, her taut back, slipping off the uniform Adora had held dear for so long, exposing her to the cold air of the stone prison she was now in.

"You know . . . I still have to punish you . . ."

Adora tensed up. So quickly were the hopeful times gone. While she was staring blankly at her captor, Catra used the moment to open up her handcuffs and cuff her again up front. She had plans, and strappado was not a part of them.

Inevitably, her eyes wandered up. Adora's body, one she knew as well as hers. The chiseled abs, the small scar that ran over her right breast from that one time she slipped during training. She remembered how flat her chest was when they were kids, how she used to think she was jealous of her tits when she groped them at night.

She wanted that body. She had craved it, night after night after Adora had abandoned her, when she was alone. Now, she was going to have her fill of it.

She stood up, unhooked a chain from the wall. Adora was looking at her with scary, teared eyes, slightly shaking her head. "You don't have to do this," her eyes were saying. "We can still leave together." Catra grinned.

"Oh, dear, I know I don't have to. I know how much I hurt you, I know I could spare you and we could run away, and you would still love me. But," she went close and cupped her hands, "do you know why I am still going to do it?"

Still crying, Adora shook her head. Catra hooked the chain to her cuffs, and finally set free the devilish grin she had been holding in under the sad facade. "Because I want to."

Adora moaned loudly, her scream muffed by the gag, and Catra relished in the reaction. She stood up and went to the crank on the wall, slowly pulling Adora to her feet.

"You hurt me, Adora. You abandoned me, you hurt my feelings, and then you left the blame on me, alone against mother and Hordac. They had high hopes for you, so they didn't go easy on me, you know. And I intend to do likewise."

And there she was, Adora, the warrior, the saviour of Eternia, naked safe for a strip of pants around her waist, exposed, bleeding, hanging from the roof of a torture chamber in the Horde. Oh yes, Catra was very turned on right now. But she had to hold it in, she knew. The fun was just getting started.

She snatched a scrap of Adora's jacket from the ground. Adora had cramped together, hiding her snobby face with her arms, but it didn't take much effort to pry them apart, to expose her messy eyes, her shaking lips kissing the gag.

"Oooh, look at yourself, crying and drooling like a little kid . . ." She wiped off her tears, dried her gag, gently, carefully. She wanted to break her, lash out all that pent up anger at someone. But not the face. The face was important. And besides, the way Adora pressed her face against her hand, still seeking some warmth from her - wasn't that alone worth it to be gentle to her?

With her free hand, she took out the toy she had in her belt and jabbed the handle against Adora's crotch, producing a startled yelp and another wide-eyed expression. Catra grinned like a madman again, twirling it around Adora's private parts, tugging it in against her flesh here and there, careful not to put it in.

"Come on, I know you. You've always wanted me to do this, no? Imagined it at night when I was crawled at your feet? When you played with yourself in the toilets?"

Adora looked at her, squinting from the next jab.

"Oh, you thought I didn't know? But I knew, Adora, I know how you moaned my name, and truth be told, I often played along, eavesdropping from the next stall, guessing where and how you were touching yourself . . ."

She could feel Adora dripping on her hand, soiling the whip and whatever was still left of her pants. Sweet. Wait, maybe it was blood? She made a note to take care of her wounds, lest her beloved toy bled to death or got an infection. Catra knew how to tend to scratches. She had tended to Adora quite a few times before. But before, she had cared, she had been innocent, she had wanted Adora to get better, to like her back. Now, she just wanted her to keep going until she broke. She leaned in, whispering in her ear, holding her head in place with a free hand and feeling her squirm under it.

"I know everything about you, Adora. You want to be the hero, you think you are predestined for greatness, the one everyone loves. Shadow Weaver told me, you know. How she adopted us. She had such high hopes for you, she took so much care of you, even at Hordac's objections . . . and then there was me. The dirty little kitty she found on a rainy night. The black sheep, the one to blame when she wanted you out of trouble. She spared me nothing when you left."

Here, she flicked the handle roughly. With a loud crack, it swung against Adora's back, causing another muffed scream and another bleeding scar. She was good at this, Catra knew, she had practiced a lot lately. They had handled whips as kids, but until she had tried imagining how she whipped Adora, Catra had never managed to get into it. But now she was into it. Very.

"Like it?"

Adora shook her head wildly, sending her hair whirling around her face. Catra casually flicked it again, causing a much weaker hit on her butt.

"Maybe I should start whipping some more sensitive parts?"

The prisoness shook her head again, but much less violently. She knew she couldn't stop her, Catra knew. And it turned her on a lot.

With another flick, she cut another scar in Adora's back, again much weaker than the first and only causing an annoyed grunt. Catra liked teasing, but she also knew Adora wouldn't last long like this. She tugged the bullwhip back in her belt and went back to the rafts, taking a few items to Adora. First, she opened a largeish tube, taking a swat from the white cream inside, and mixed it with some white powder from another, rubbing it between her hands. At the first gentle touch, Adora arched her back with a guttural moan, more from dread than from pain.

"Disinfectant. But I added some salt. For flavor, you know."

The disinfectant stank as much as it was effective. Catra wasn't sure whether the salt would even have an effect, but seeing how Adora twisted and welped under her hands, she found it pretty fun nonetheless. Her shallower wounds had stopped bleeding, but were still very sensitive. Bit by bit, Catra let her hands wander downwards, pulling Adora's soiled body closer to her own, grinding against it and taking off what little clothes the prisoness had left.

"You know, I often used to wonder . . . this cream is made from fat, right? So, if you were to somehow ignore the stench and the iodine itch . . ."

She slid her hands down between Adora's legs, one between her soft butt, the other over her hairy mound.

"What else could we use it for, I wonder . . ."

Adora spasmed a little when Catra started fingering her nethers. Apparently, she finally understood that she had no choice, that she was going to be dominated. Pressing herself against her, burying her face in that blonde hair and remembering the smell of her dreams while violaing those hairy lips, Catra wondered whether she should get a strap-on. It was a boring thing they had, just a rubber stick stuck onto a pair of leather panties, but it would let her dominate her all the way, destroying what little dignity and worth she still had, as a man would. With a purr, she decided against it. That was not the point, Catra thought and let two fingers slide in, tensing up Adora as the feline's long nails scratched up her inside. She wanted her to know exactly who was wrecking her. No fantasies, no pointless disillusions. She had betrayed her. And she was going to pay for it.

Catra started curling her fingers around, scratching her sweet spot. "You like it?" Adora twisted a little, gave a tired moan. Catra frowned. This was getting boring.

She stepped back, took out the whip again and gave her two new scars in quick sucession. Now she was moaning properly again, Catra grinned. Maybe she could keep it up after all?

Sliding her toy between her legs again, Catra aligned the toy properly, spreading Adora's lips with her other hand, pressing it in just enough to spread her a bit. "You been fucked in there before?"

Adora shook her head timidly. She was trying not to tremble.

"Guessing by the size of it . . . I think it's gonna hurt."

Scared nod.

"Want me to stop?"

Frantic nod, followed by a devillish grin.

"Make me."

Without a warning, she pushed the hilt all the way in. Adora jolted up, screaming through her gag, thrashing around with her legs and pulling herself up on her chains as if it would get her away from Catra's unforgiving hands. After a few moments of feline glee, she subsided, coming back down unconscious and pressing her legs together around Catra's hand, soaked in blood.

Frantically, Catra took her hand off the whip, looking at it confused. Blood. Of course, there's no way she could have taken it without further issues. Catra pryed her legs apart with ease, gently tugging the whip out. It was drenched, and still more was dripping. She dropped her toy to the floor and hurried for the rafts again, disinfectant, cotton patches, thread and needle. With thrembling hands, she pried her lips apart again, gently tapping the blood off with a cotton pad, trying to fight her panic. She had done it. She had injured Adora.

"Why did you stop?"

Catra whipped her head around. Shadow Weaver was leaning in the doorframe, calmly watching the events. Was she masturbating? At that?

No. She was too evil for this. Catra was betrayed, by her best friend, her . . . her teammate, abandoned, lonely, frustrated - not only sexually, yes. But not Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver had put care into a student to have them behave out of order. There was nothing sexual about that. It was pure revenge.

"She . . . she needs some rest. I went too hard, and she started getting used to it, so I had to hurt her. Now she has to heal. I'll help her, let her think I'm done, and once she trusts me I'll start again where I left off. Just like you do it, mother."

Shadow Weaver nodded lightly. Whether in agreement or praise remained unclear. For a few more moments she watched her wrecked pupil, then disappeared again. Catra kept tending to Adora's groins, as if trying to amend for what she had done. The larger cuts sutured and a ioded swat of cotton tugged inside her friend, Catra worked her way up her childhood friend, mostly just disinfecting and sewing together the whip wounds on her back. She caressed her, she held her close, she took care of her, just like she was supposed to do, all along. She looked at that pained, sleeping face, that face she had not dared touch. Was it worth it, really? Adora was strong. They could torture her, break her all they wanted, but she would get used to it. There was no victory to be had for Catra, she realised, only brief, occasional moments of pleasure, followed by regret, a lot of regret. She hated Adora, in her own weird way where she still loved her above everything else in the world, but she wouldn't get her back like this. Suddenly it hit her, it's what Shadow Weaver had done to them. Catra obeyed her, she assumed it was out of love, because she was the only one to take her in. But Adora, the ever-persisting Adora, she had seen it for what it was - fear. They were not family, they were not some holy union that she had to be forced back into no matter what. They were more. They were sisters, friends . . . maybe more.

But she wouldn't know if she did this, she realised. She had to leave, now, get away, with Adora. And hope she would forgive her.

". . . Emily?" Catra swallowed, looking for her voice, whispering to the dark walls. "I, I need a favor. Don't tell anyone, just . . . get my stuff and what's left of Adora's. And get us a ship."


End file.
